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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25946710">Yurusarezaru Mono</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/manic_intent/pseuds/manic_intent'>manic_intent</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Lord of the Blade [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Ghost of Tsushima (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A Masako Tale, F/F, F/M, Full spoilers, That story tracing what came before and what came after, because She deserved better</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 07:06:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,573</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25946710</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/manic_intent/pseuds/manic_intent</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re late,” Masako spat out as the samurai finally rolled into the farm, resplendent in blue and white armour. She used the old katana to push herself to her feet. Chipped and poorly sharpened by her hand, it’d served her better than she’d thought it would, though it had snapped inside the chest of the last man she’d cut down. </p><p>The young man in furs and a striped blue headband at the head of the samurai contingent surveyed the bodies littering the fields, then looked Masako over in disbelief. “Did <i>you</i> kill all these men?” </p><p>Masako glowered at him. Covered in blood, mud, and sweat, her haori ruined beyond repair, she was in no mood to coddle a man, let alone one so over-bred. “Surprise,” she said, curling her lip.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Adachi Harunobu/Adachi Masako, Adachi Masako/Mai</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Lord of the Blade [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1886146</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>90</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Yurusarezaru Mono</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Lord Harunobu is quite hot. That’s all I will say about how this fic came about. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Full spoilers:</p><p>S</p><p>P</p><p>O</p><p>I</p><p>L</p><p>E</p><p>R</p><p> </p><p>  </p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You’re late,” Masako spat out as the samurai finally rolled into the farm, resplendent in blue and white armour. She used the old katana to push herself to her feet. Chipped and poorly sharpened by her hand, it’d served her better than she’d thought it would, though it had snapped inside the chest of the last man she’d cut down. </p><p>The young man in furs and a striped blue headband at the head of the samurai contingent surveyed the bodies littering the fields, then looked Masako over in disbelief. “Did <i>you</i> kill all these men?” </p><p>Masako glowered at him. Covered in blood, mud, and sweat, her haori ruined beyond repair, she was in no mood to coddle a man, let alone one so over-bred. “Surprise,” she said, curling her lip.</p><p>The kashindan behind the young man murmured to themselves, going quiet as he held up a hand. “I am Adachi Harunobu,” said Harunobu. “May I know your name?” </p><p>“Why would it matter?” Masako asked suspiciously, even as Hana and her parents emerged cautiously from their house. Masako’s mother, Akemi, let out a cry of relief at the sight of the samurai. Her father, Tohoru, gasped as he looked between Masako and the dead. </p><p>“Masako, are you all right?” Tohoru asked, rushing over to her side. </p><p>“Masako,” Harunobu repeated. He dismounted, walking over with a smile. “I did not think that someone like you could exist. Were you trained?” </p><p>“Peasant women don’t train,” Masako said before her father could get them both into trouble.</p><p>“Masako,” Hana said with a reproachful look. She levelled one of her pretty smiles on Harunobu. “Please, forgive my sister’s tone. As you can see, we’ve all had a very trying day.” Tall and graceful even in a plain kimono, Hana was everything Masako wasn’t: beautiful and well-mannered. Today, Masako was too tired to care about any imminent comparisons.</p><p>Strangely, Harunobu didn’t give Hana more than a glance, his eyes fixing on Masako’s face. “Of course. It’s remarkable what you’ve done. Protecting your family by yourself.” </p><p>“Your new taxes push people who can’t pay it into poverty and hunger. That’s why these men grew desperate enough to raid the farms of people who had once been their neighbours. Now we who are poor must kill each other over rice. Yes. Remarkable,” Masako said. She bowed stiffly. “I’m going to bind my wounds. Forgive me if I don’t see you off, my lord.” She stalked away as her mother called after her and Hana began apologising on her behalf. </p><p>The blood washed off easily enough in the stream near their house, though her clothes were another matter. As Masako bandaged her wounds and glumly scrubbed the haori, a rustle behind her made her start for her dagger. It was Hana, carrying a spare kimono. She made a face as she looked at Masako’s haphazard bandages. “What a mess. Sit. I’ll do it.” </p><p>Masako sat as her sister gently undid her haphazard work, gritting her teeth against the pain. “Is he gone?” </p><p>“Lord Adachi? Yes. After he had his men first remove the bodies from the farm.” </p><p>Masako sniffed. “So he can tell his father how many bandits he killed?” </p><p>“Not at all. Just to burn them beyond the farm so we wouldn’t have to do it. He wanted to tell the jitō about your bravery. Arrange an audience.” </p><p>“I hope Father dissuaded him.” An audience with the jitō? Masako shuddered. Pleasant as it was to imagine giving the jitō a piece of her mind about crippling taxes and bridge tolls, Masako didn’t want to get her family into that much trouble. As it were, she’d regretted her sharp words to Harunobu once her temper had cooled. Being the future daimyō lord, Harunobu was well-placed to make her family’s life a misery forever should he have chosen to take offence. </p><p>“He tried, but I’m not sure that it worked.” Hana rewrapped Masako’s bandages, clucking her tongue at the sight of the deep one on her arm. “This one will leave a scar. Masako, even Father told you to hide.” </p><p>“Father can no longer hold a sword without his hands shaking.” Last winter’s illness had taken a long toll on their once indomitable father, a ronin-turned-farmer. “We couldn’t have hidden in the house for long. What was I to do, let them kill us?” </p><p>“They might have left us alone had we just given them our food.”</p><p>“A quick death or a slow death. Great choices.” Masako looked over her shoulder at Hana’s pursed lips. “I hope I didn’t offend the daimyō’s son.” </p><p>“Thankfully, I think you didn’t. Though I’m sure some allowance was paid to the fact that you were swaying on your feet and covered in blood and wounds,” Hana said as she helped Masako dress. “Lord Harunobu said he’d call in on us again in a few days.” </p><p>“What for?” Masako said, alarmed. </p><p>“There’s a standing reward for killing bandits. He said he’d deliver it personally.” </p><p>“I’ve never heard of something like that.” Maybe it was new. “The bandit problem must be getting worse for Clan Adachi to foot a reward rather than muster the effort to deal with the bandits themselves.” Typical. “Hopefully, it’s generous enough for us to buy a new horse. Or oxen.” </p><p>Hana’s cheeks reddened. “He also asked if we were unmarried.” </p><p>Masako laughed. “Trying to match us off to his retainers?” </p><p>“I don’t think that’s what he meant. Masako, if I could marry into the Adachi clan, that would make our entire family samurai-class. No more digging in the dirt. No more going hungry. We could live in a fine house, with fine clothes.”</p><p>“No more having to beg a healer to look at Father,” Masako said, thinking this over before reality resurfaced. She squeezed out the water from her haori, giving up on the cloth. “Hana, a samurai wouldn’t marry a peasant. Let alone a daimyō’s son marrying the daughter of a poor farmer.” </p><p>“I can try, can’t I? Especially if the jitō now has a reason to think kindly about our family.” Hana squeezed Masako’s hand. “This could be the solution to our problems.” </p><p>“I prefer solutions that aren’t rooted in fantasy,” Masako said with a sniff. “Though, if you think it’s possible, why not?” Hana was beautiful enough to catch the eye of a daimyō’s son, maybe. </p><p>“Help me, then. I know you have some savings. If I could buy some new clothes and make-up before his next visit…” </p><p>Masako grimaced. She’d been saving to buy a better katana, one that she’d seen in the local blacksmith’s. It wasn’t that much better made than her father’s old blade, but it was better weighted. On the other hand, if her sister did somehow manage to marry Harunobu… as one of the samurai-class, Masako would have ready access to far better swords. Maybe. </p><p>“All right,” Masako conceded. “Do I have to be around when he arrives?” Maybe it was better for Masako and her sharp tongue to make herself scarce.</p><p>“He didn’t say anything about you having to be there,” Hana said with a look of relief she couldn’t entirely hide. At Masako’s curt nod, Hana said, “Masako. We’ve… I know we’ve never been that close. But as the older sister, I do want to marry well. In a way that’d be good for all of us. That’s why I didn’t agree to the proposals I’ve gotten so far. I was waiting for a prospect like this. This is our family’s chance to rise above our station.”</p><p>“I see that,” Masako said, getting to her feet. “I wish you luck. Honestly, I do.”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>#</p>
</div>On the day that Harunobu was meant to come calling, Masako went hunting, taking with her a water gourd and a small wrapped pack of onigiri. Harunobu hadn’t said what time he would be paying a visit, so it seemed safer to stay out for the whole day. She walked over an hour into the forest, looking for signs of rabbits and other easy game. Her wounds ached, but it was nothing she couldn't endure.<p>Not that there was much to find. Bandits like the ones she killed often tried their hand at hunting first. Masako couldn’t find any boar, and the few rabbit warrens she did see looked old. Even the squirrels were nowhere to be found. She ate her small lunch on the steps of an ancient shrine beside a cliff, its flanks dusted by moss, the offering plate long stolen. </p><p>As Masako bit into her last onigiri, a rider emerged from the trees. She snatched up her bow, then relaxed as she recognised Harunobu. Out of his blue and white clan armour and furs, dressed in a blue kataginu with his clan crest, Harunobu looked younger, even with the beard dusting his strong-jawed face. Handsome enough, Masako supposed. Small wonder Hana was so hopeful. </p><p>“Masako-san, there you are.” Harunobu dismounted, looking relieved. “There have been reports of bandit activity in this part of the forest. When your sister said you’d gone hunting by yourself, I grew worried.” </p><p>“I know how to avoid them,” Masako said, trying not to roll her eyes. Mindful of her sister’s efforts, she muttered a reluctantly polite, “Thank you. For your concern.” </p><p>Harunobu smiled tentatively at her. “I hoped to see you.” </p><p>“Now you have.” </p><p>Her biting tone didn’t deter him. “I meant at the farm, but. This is better. Masako-san, I’ve been thinking about what you said, and I’ve spent the last few days looking through the ledgers. The taxes are disproportionate to the year’s yield. I’ve spoken to my father, and he’ll mention it to the jitō. In the meantime, we’ll do what we can to help from our stores.” </p><p>“Oh?” Masako hadn’t expected that. “I’m glad to hear it.” </p><p>“You said that you weren’t trained. That isn’t entirely true, is it?” Harunobu asked. </p><p>“Why does it matter?” </p><p>“Because if so, you must be a natural talent.” Harunobu looked curiously at her hunting dagger and bow. “Was that katana your father’s?” At Masako’s silence, Harunobu said, “Being one of the ronin isn’t illegal.” </p><p>“You’d have to ask him,” Masako said, wary. Her father had told her all sorts of stories about the samurai and their attitude toward ronin. “He taught my sister and me how to defend ourselves.” </p><p>“Other than that, you weren’t trained at all?”</p><p>“Why do you want to know?” Masako’s heart sank. Maybe there was no getting her father out of trouble, no matter what Hana hoped. Even samurai-class women weren’t trained in the use of a katana but in the use of a naginata.</p><p>“I think that it’s amazing,” Harunobu said, with a look of such honest admiration on his face that Masako stared at him in surprise. “I would’ve had trouble taking on five people by myself the way you did. If you could already do what you do now, with proper training, you could become a second Gozen Tomoe.” </p><p>Masako laughed. “Fighting overwhelming odds beside a man who didn’t want to die beside a woman?” Tohoru had liked to tell Masako stories about Gozen Tomoe as they were growing up—the only stories that could get Masako to sit quietly and do her chores. They’d been dazzling when she was young, but now Masako was old enough to read injustice between the lines. </p><p>“Well, maybe not with such an ending,” Harunobu said, looking a little embarrassed. </p><p>“She was one of the onna-bugeisha. She had the right to be trained.” Masako grew tired of the conversation. “As to the men I killed, they were starving, and hardly swordsmen themselves. Forgive me, but I should be on my way. Was there something else that you needed? Lord Adachi.” </p><p>“I’ll walk you home,” Harunobu offered. </p><p>“There’s no need for that,” Masako said with a frown. “It’s a long walk. Aren’t you busy?” </p><p>“We could share my—” Harunobu cleared his throat and averted his eyes. “My horse will carry us both.” </p><p>“That won’t be necessary,” Masako said, amused at Harunobu’s sudden reserve. She wasn’t Hana, with her soft manners and chrysanthemum scent, and given the warm day, she’d been sweating into her clothes. “I’ll be fine. Besides, I haven’t caught anything yet.” </p><p>“There’s a hidden pool not that far from here that sometimes has duck,” Harunobu suggested. “I’ll show you. If you like.” </p><p>That could be useful. “All right.” </p><p>The pool was hidden through a narrow chasm, easily missed through the trees. Masako sucked in a soft breath as she saw it—a plateau carved out of white stone and lush arching trees, the grass thick with blue flowers. A flock of wild duck paddled through the clear water, grooming themselves as the wind tickled yellowing leaves through the air. </p><p>“I never knew this was here,” Masako said. </p><p>“My grandfather liked to come here to meditate. He took me along when I was a boy.” </p><p>“Taking a child along when you want to meditate?”</p><p>Harunobu smiled wryly. “That’s what he told my parents. In truth, he came here to escape having to work, take a nap, and have sake. We would duel with bokken by the pond. Though he’d win all the time—he was an exceptional swordsman.” </p><p>“It’s a nice place to duel or have sake,” Masako conceded. She tried not to feel envious. “My father would have liked to do the sa…” She trailed off, belatedly remembering herself. </p><p>“Masako-san. I don’t think there’s anything dishonourable about a father training his daughters to defend themselves. Whether the father is a samurai, one of the ronin, or a farmer,” Harunobu said with a solemn, earnest look. </p><p>“It doesn’t matter now,” Masako said, picking her words with care. “He isn’t well—he can’t lift anything too heavy for long. How is your grandfather?” she asked, trying to change the subject. </p><p>“He passed in his sleep.” Harunobu looked pensively at the pool. “It was a long time ago.” </p><p>“I’m sorry to hear that.”</p><p>“He would’ve liked to meet you,” Harunobu said, with an oddly abashed smile. It fit his bearded face and powerful build unevenly—almost comically. </p><p>“A man who likes to nap, drink sake, and duel all day? Maybe,” Masako said, chuckling. Even if it meant the grandfather was most certainly shirking his responsibilities. “I wouldn’t have minded going a few rounds and learning something. If he were willing to train a woman.” </p><p>“If you want to train, I could train you,” Harunobu offered. </p><p>The investment into Hana’s clothes and make-up must’ve worked better than Masako had thought. “I’d like that,” Masako said. Even if it meant learning the naginata instead of a katana. Hana would have to learn too if she married into a clan, wouldn’t she? That would be hilarious—she’d hated having to learn self-defence. Masako smiled at the thought. </p><p>Harunobu averted his eyes again, clearing his throat. “I… that’s good to hear. Perhaps if I meet you tomorrow at your family's farm and we ride here? I can bring a pair of bokken and a spare horse.” </p><p>Masako frowned at him, puzzled. “Bokken?” </p><p>“Wooden training swords—”</p><p>“I know what bokken are. Don’t you samurai teach your women the naginata?” </p><p>“If you’d prefer to learn the naginata, I’ll teach that to you instead, though I’m not as practised in its use.” </p><p>“…No. Bokken is fine. That’s generous of you. Can you spare the time?” </p><p>“I’m always glad to find someone eager to learn how to use a sword. No matter who they are.” </p><p>Masako considered this. On the one hand, she still had major doubts about Hana’s plan—surely a daimyō lord’s son wouldn’t be willing to marry a peasant woman. If so, openly meeting said son and riding off together into a forest was going to look suspect to everyone, not just her family. On the other hand, Harunobu didn’t strike Masako as someone planning something dishonourable. She might as well take advantage of his goodwill while it lasted. </p><p>“Don’t come by the house. I’ll meet you here in the afternoon,” Masako said. Hopefully, she wouldn’t come to regret this. </p><p>Harunobu lit up. “I’ll be counting down the hours.” </p><p>Did a daimyō lord’s son have this much spare time? Masako nodded, drawing her bow and notching an arrow to it. “Now, if you’d excuse me.” </p><p>Harunobu took his bow from his saddle. “I’ll help.”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>#</p>
</div>Her family was puzzled by the amount of duck that Masako started bringing in, but sharing it out with their neighbours meant having cabbage and even dango for the first time in months. Masako just said that she’d found a good hunting spot.<p>Harunobu didn’t call on the house again, to Hana’s disappointment. Not that she apologised for having used Masako’s savings. It didn’t matter—the reward from killing the bandits meant being able to buy a new horse, even repair the supply shed. Harunobu didn’t mention Hana at all whenever he found the time to meet Masako to train, nor did he speak of marriage. After a few sessions, Masako could see why. She thought she’d loved learning how to use the blade, but her love paled compared to Harunobu’s. If she had talent, his felt like something beyond even that. A sword sat in his palms like it was meant to be there. </p><p>Masako envied that about Harunobu the most. She didn’t resent how hard it was for her to snatch out a few hours during the week from the backbreaking work of farming to meet him at the pool. Or the increasingly pointed questions her father was starting to ask when he saw bruises from stray bokken strikes under her sleeves. Deep down, Masako knew she could train all day for a hundred years and never get as good as Harunobu was. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Still, she <i>was</i> improving. As the days wound down to the harvest season and Masako no longer had time to sneak out to meet Harunobu, she found she even missed it. </p><p>The autumn harvest festival was the highlight of the year for the farms in the region. They gathered at Hiyoshi village to celebrate with lanterns and dango, everyone dressing up in their best clothes, bringing their best sake and snacks. Hana cheered up as she attracted her usual swarm of admirers, and Masako left her to it, stealing away to look for mochi. She bought a small hoard along with a gourd of sake and hid in the bamboo to eat and watch the lanterns in peace, away from everyone talking marriage and gossip. As Masako found a suitable spot and knelt to arrange her spread, someone knelt beside her. A man in a large straw hat and plain blue kimono and hakama, with a wrapped bundle beside him. </p><p>“I was here first,” Masako said, before belatedly recognising the pattern on the katana and tanto in the newcomer’s obi. “You!”</p><p>Harunobu tilted up the hat, smiling warmly. “I’ve missed you.” </p><p>“Should you even be here? Wouldn’t your clan have its own festival?”</p><p>“The clans in the Izuhara region do attend a festival at Castle Kaneda, but I’ve always been curious about Hiyoshi’s.” </p><p>“I doubt Hiyoshi’s would be nicer than Castle Kaneda’s,” Masako said, though she was reluctantly moved to offer Harunobu some mochi. He ate politely, if with a faint frown. “You see? Nothing like Kaneda.” </p><p>“It isn’t that. I don’t often eat sweets.” Harunobu flattened his large hands in his lap. “If you’re curious about the festival at Castle Kaneda, I could take you there. It’ll run deep into the night: we can still make it if we ride.” </p><p>“Me?” Masako laughed. “A peasant friend of a lord is still a peasant.” </p><p>Harunobu scowled. “That wouldn’t matter. The jitō heard about what you did. I know your father asked me not to mention it, but I had to give a truthful account of the matter to my father, and he mentioned it to the jitō in turn.” </p><p>“As long as it doesn’t get us into trouble.” Masako had thought as much. </p><p>“I don’t believe it did.” At the sound of a loud ripple of laughter, Harunobu looked over at the lanterns and mingling crowd. “I looked for you over there. Why are you sitting here by yourself?” </p><p>“Everyone over there’s looking to get married. I just want to eat mochi in peace.” </p><p>“You don’t want to get married? Or is there someone you’re already thinking of?” </p><p>“Not you as well,” Masako said, eating a mochi. She couldn’t tell Harunobu that if she were in the mood for flirting, she’d much rather flirt with the women than with most of the men. “I suppose I have to get married eventually, but since Hana isn’t married yet, there’s no rush.” Her parents desperately wanted grandchildren. They’d set their hopes on Hana for now, but Masako knew that wouldn’t last long. Once Hana married out, her parents’ expectations would rebound on her. </p><p>“There isn’t?” Harunobu sounded oddly tense. Masako glanced at him as she popped the mochi in her mouth and chewed. </p><p>“Why would you care? If I got married to one of those boys over there, I doubt I’d have any time left to train.” She would have to help out on another farm, take care of her in-laws, and look after children. Some days, Masako wished that wasn’t her lot in life, but she was a practical woman. She would do her duty when it was her turn—but only when it came to her turn.</p><p>“So don’t.” Harunobu’s hands clenched in his lap. “Marry me instead.”</p><p>Masako choked on the mochi and started coughing until Harunobu had to pat her on the back and hand her some water. “Ha, very funny,” she croaked after she drank. </p><p>“How could I joke about something like that? Masako, I’ve been trying to find a way to ask you for months. I would’ve done it formally—asked your parents first—but I wasn’t sure what you’d think. My friend Kazumasa advised me to speak to you first.” </p><p>“Lord Sakai Kazumasa? The daimyō lord of Omi Village?” </p><p>“A close friend of mine and my family. Don’t worry. He’d have kept my confidence.” </p><p>Masako had to drink some of her sake. “I can’t believe that you told him. Surely he couldn’t have approved.” </p><p>“He can relate, in a way. He has the same problem, except in the opposite,” Harunobu said with a wan smile. “He’s been in love with a woman beyond his reach since he was a boy.” </p><p>“Beyond the reach of a daimyō lord?” Masako said, startled. “Who might that be? A married woman? Or someone in the Imperial family?” </p><p>“The jitō’s only daughter. It’s complicated, but don’t worry about him.” Harunobu picked at the folds of his hakama. “Well. Now I’ve spoken to you. Would you be willing to honour me by becoming my wife? I’ll speak to your family tomorrow, if so.” </p><p>“I thought you’d marry Hana, if anyone,” Masako said weakly, still shocked. </p><p>“Why would I?” Harunobu looked bewildered. </p><p>“She’s the older sister, the beautiful one.”</p><p>“She isn’t you,” Harunobu said, looking at Masako with a tender intensity that she hadn’t seen from anyone else. It made her throat clench, her chest aching uncomfortably. </p><p>“Is your family going to approve?” Masako asked.</p><p>“I’m the only son. I can do what I want.” </p><p>“Somehow, I doubt that. Lord Harunobu, this… I didn’t expect this of you. It’s ah, it’s a great honour, but I’ll need to think about it. I don’t want to be the reason behind you falling out with your clan.” Marrying into a family that didn’t approve of her would be a nightmare. Masako had seen that in a lesser degree in her own family—her grandparents hadn’t approved of her mother deciding to marry an itinerant ronin. This disapproval had lingered to their deathbeds no matter how hard Tohoru strived to be a good son. </p><p>Harunobu set his jaw. “I’ll get my family’s formal approval and ask you again.” </p><p>“All right,” Masako said, relieved. That should put an end to things. As much as it ached a little to think so. Masako did… like Harunobu. As a friend for now, but although she’d never thought about anything more, it didn’t feel like a stretch. She’d seen his character laid bare when they sparred, seen the evidence of his careful consideration of her opinion in the lowered taxes and repaired roads. He would make anyone a great husband. She hadn’t thought that might be her.</p><p>“One other thing.” Harunobu unwrapped the bundle beside him, pulling the cloth away from an exquisite katana in a navy sheath with silver patterning. He picked it up over the palms of both hands and presented it to Masako. “A gift. Seeing as you broke yours in defence of your home.” </p><p>“I can’t accept this,” Masako said, astonished. </p><p>“It’s yours.” Harunobu waited patiently. When it didn’t look like he would move, Masako picked up the blade, drawing an inch to check the steel in the dim light.</p><p>“It’s beautiful,” Masako whispered, looking at the delicate waves of the hamon. “Are you sure you want to give this to me?” </p><p>“It’s nowhere as beautiful as you are,” Harunobu said. To her embarrassment, Masako blushed. </p><p>“You can’t mean that,” she said, even as Hana said, “Masako?” </p><p>They looked sharply over to the hot spring pools. Hana was holding a small packet of mochi, which fell from her hand as she looked between Masako and Harunobu with dawning realisation. She let out a gasp and darted off, lowering her head. </p><p>“Hana!” Masako scrambled to her feet. She sheathed the katana and thrust it back into Harunobu’s hands. “Keep it for me,” she told him, and hurried off to look for her sister. </p><p>She found Hana sniffling behind the inn, tears starting to ruin her make-up. “Go away,” Hana muttered as Masako knelt beside her. </p><p>“Hana,” Masako said, unsure of how to comfort her sister. “I wasn’t expecting him to be there. You know me. I just wanted to sit somewhere quiet with some mochi.” </p><p>“How long?” Hana snapped. “How long have you been seeing each other?” </p><p>“Months.” At Hana’s bitter laugh, Masako hastened to say, “It isn’t what you think. He was just training me in bladework.” </p><p>“That’s why you were sneaking off twice a week all this time? To think I used to cover for you with mother!” </p><p>“I came back with duck half the time, didn’t I? Hana, he didn’t say a word about anything else while we trained.” </p><p>“Only you could be so oblivious. What else would a man want? Seeing an unmarried woman in private for months?” </p><p>“I didn’t think he’d want to marry a peasant!” Masako shot back. “I thought he just wanted to be my friend.” </p><p>“Only you,” Hana repeated, with another bitter laugh. “Well? When’s the wedding?” </p><p>“Never, probably. It turns out that he didn’t ask his parents. I told him to get their approval first before asking me again. That should be the end of it.”</p><p>Hana frowned at Masako. “You don’t want to marry him? Why not? He’s the son of a daimyō lord. Why meet him secretly all this time, then?” </p><p>“I wanted a <i>friend</i>. Besides, it was fun. Training. I didn’t expect anything else from him. Let alone a marriage proposal and a fine sword.” Men. </p><p>Hana clenched her hands together. “It… it looked like a nice gift.” </p><p>“It was.” </p><p>“Why didn’t you keep it?”</p><p>“How would that look? Me walking around with a blade that fine around Hiyoshi? People would accuse me of stealing it from Ishikawa-sensei or something. Our father would have a heart attack.” </p><p>Hana nodded slowly. “This isn’t beyond salvage. With your help, I could still marry Lord Harunobu.”</p><p>Masako glanced at her, startled. “What?”</p><p>“You don’t want to marry him, do you? You returned his gift—you only wanted to be his friend. Once I marry him, I’ll encourage him to keep training you, and you’ll be able to bear that fine sword at your hip without fear of accusal.” Hana turned to Masako, clasping her hands with a bright smile. “This could work for all of us.” </p><p>“Hana.” Masako gently drew her hands from Hana’s grip. “It won’t work like that. Before you get angry, I did tell him that I thought he would marry you, if anything. But the sister he’s interested in is me.” </p><p>“That’s never been the case between boys and us,” Hana scoffed. “Just because you can use a katana? I can learn, too. Don’t ruin this for me out of spite.” </p><p>Masako stared at her sister, too taken aback by to feel anything but pity. They had never been close, but she’d never seen her sister like this—jealous and dismissive. Growing up, Hana had always been her parents’ favourite. The best prospect for a better life for everyone. “I didn’t want to get married,” Masako said slowly, “but if Lord Harunobu can get his parents’ approval, I’ll marry him.” </p><p>“Masako. You’re the younger sister!” Hana said, glaring at her. “How dare you steal this from me?” </p><p>“I’m not stealing anything from anyone. He’s my friend, not yours. This will help us just as much as if you were to get married in my place. I could use his connections to find you a good match,” Masako said, staring down Hana’s venomous fury. </p><p>“It isn’t fair,” Hana hissed. “Just because of that day.”</p><p>“You mean the day where I took up our father’s sword to protect you, even though I thought I might die in the attempt or worse?” Masako said, frowning at Hana. “I didn’t do that to get myself a <i>husband</i>. I did that for you and our family. If you can’t even see that, I have nothing more to say to you.”</p><p>“Then don’t,” Hana said, rising to her feet and clenching her fists.</p>
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</div>Life at home became icy after that. Hana either refused to talk to Masako, or flew into a rage when nearby. Thankful that the colder days meant a little more free time, Masako took to going to the hidden pond even when Harunobu wasn’t there. Drinking sake under one of the spreading trees, taking naps, practising by herself. She wondered if Harunobu’s long-dead grandfather was watching. Whether he would approve.<p>It took two weeks for Harunobu to be able to meet her again by the pond, flushed with excitement. “They agreed,” he said. </p><p>“What?” </p><p>“My parents. They agreed.” Harunobu clasped Masako’s hands. “I’ll ask your parents after this; then we can set a date.” Reeling, Masako stared up wordlessly at Harunobu. “What’s wrong?” Harunobu asked. </p><p>“I… were they even happy about this?” Masako asked, stalling. Faced with the real prospect of marriage, it felt like Masako was edging out over a precipice, one that she had thought was far away in her future. </p><p>“I might have threatened them,” Harunobu conceded. “I said that it was you or no one.” At the aghast look Masako shot him, Harunobu said, “They’ll settle into it. Besides, my father grew curious after I told him I’ve been training you all this while in secret.” </p><p>“Curious, you say,” Masako said with a grimace. </p><p>“You’re already better than my kashindan. In time, you’d be better than the other samurai.” Harunobu stared at Masako uncertainly. “I thought you’d be happier.” </p><p>“Lord Harunobu, I… I’ll be honest with you. I care for you, but. It hasn’t been that long since we’ve met. We still barely know each other. I don’t… feel for you in the way that you might hope.” </p><p>Harunobu smiled, rubbing her hands between his large palms gently. “I know. Even if it wasn’t obvious, I overheard you that day with your sister.” </p><p>“That was private!” Masako glowered at him. </p><p>“I was worried about you. Masako, the fact that you’ve been willing to be my friend has been an honour. It isn’t just because you’re good with a sword—you’re kind, principled, and fearless. Nothing would make me happier than for you to consent to be my wife, but if you decide that it isn’t what you want, I’d still count it a great honour to be your friend.” </p><p>Masako let out a soft sound, her eyes stinging. “I think that’s the nicest thing anyone has said to me.” </p><p>“It’s the truth.” </p><p>“Then I stand by what I said to my sister,” Masako said, giving in with a wry smile. “That if you could get your parents to agree, then so will I.” </p><p>Harunobu exhaled loudly in relief with a shaky laugh. “I was beginning to think that you’d still say no.”</p><p>“Good to see that I can keep you guessing.” Masako tentatively stroked her palm over Harunobu’s bearded cheek. He drew her carefully against him but didn’t push, looking adoringly into her eyes. It wasn’t as odd as Masako thought it might be, held like this. It felt different from the giggling kisses she’d sometimes exchanged with some of the other village girls when they were younger, during festivals, with all of them drunk and curious. No better, but perhaps no less. So thinking, Masako tugged Harunobu down, angling for a tentative kiss. </p><p>Harunobu jerked back, eyes wide. “Masako, we can’t. Not yet. The matter of your honour—”</p><p>“Who’s going to tell?” Masako asked with a teasing grin. She dared to lean up, pecking Harunobu on the mouth. “There. The world hasn’t ended, has it?” She laughed as Harunobu growled and hauled her closer, pressing his mouth to hers.</p>
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</div>Lady Adachi Mayumi, Harunobu’s mother, clearly didn’t know what to make of Masako as she showed Akemi and Masako around the Adachi clan holdings. She asked politely after the rest of Masako’s family, then in delicate terms about the Bandit Incident, then fell into a confused if genteel silence. It was better than distaste, but not by much. Thankfully, Akemi bravely rose to the occasion. Masako gratefully left them talking about tea leaves, of all things, sneaking off for some air. She hid behind a house with a viewing platform that overlooked Izuhara with a loud exhalation of relief.<p>“It isn’t that bad, is it?” Harunobu asked behind her. </p><p>Masako nearly fell off the platform in shock. He smiled at her as he knelt beside her, looking out over the view. “Shouldn’t you be with our fathers?” </p><p>“They’re getting along surprisingly well, reminiscing about some old campaign that they happened to be on together. I thought I’d leave them to it and check on you.” </p><p>“Really?” Tohoru had never been willing to talk in detail about his life before meeting Akemi. “That’s good? I think. I left our mothers talking about tea, but they’d probably come looking for me soon.” </p><p>“You look so hunted.” </p><p>“I didn’t realise you people lived like this. Servants and guards everywhere. Like cranes flying across the clouds.” </p><p>“Soon, it’ll be your life as well.” </p><p>Masako shivered. “Two years ago we had a bad winter. There wasn’t enough to eat. Some families starved to death. We got by on one meal a day, and my mother often tried to eat less so the rest of us could have more. She’d pretend that she wasn’t hungry.” </p><p>Harunobu frowned. “I remember that winter. Harvests failed because of unseasonal floods. I didn’t realise it was so bad for the farmers.” </p><p>“Shouldn’t you? You’re in charge of all this land, aren’t you? Can’t you have cared to check?” </p><p>“You’re right,” Harunobu said, looking away. “Your words shame me, and I will do better. This is why I’m glad that you’ll be here. You can make sure that I’ll try.”</p><p>Warmth bloomed in Masako’s chest, aching sweetly. “I hope so.” </p><p>Harunobu stared out over the view for a while, and then he breathed out. “There’s one other thing. I don’t want there to be secrets between us, so when I received this, I knew I had to show it to you.” Harunobu drew a crumpled letter from within his kimono, handing it over. </p><p>The words on it were a scrawl, but the meaning was clear. Names, locations, times. Accusations. The girls Masako had once run wild with before the hard winter claimed some and marriages claimed the others. The ones she used to kiss behind Hiyoshi inn, giggling, sticky with adzuki paste and sake. Masako reddened. “How did you get this?” </p><p>“It arrived yesterday, addressed to me.” Harunobu studied her soberly. “Masako, is this true? You and other women?” </p><p>Who could have known all this? One of the girls? Envious, after all this time? She’d thought them all parted on good terms. Masako let out a shaky laugh, crumpling the letter. She began to say that she had been young, or that it was in the past. The words died on her tongue. Shame had never sat comfortably in her compared to fury—fury that someone had betrayed her, perhaps someone she’d once loved. Fury that people would even care, that she could be condemned for something like this—something that had never hurt anyone. Fury that someone had gone behind her to stab her in the back like this, when they could have faced her head on. </p><p>She thrust the letter back at Harunobu. “Yes,” Masako said, an open challenge in her stare. </p><p>Harunobu met her anger with calm, not touching the letter. “Who is this enemy of yours? The one who sent this to me?”</p><p>“I don’t know. They don’t know me as well as they thought. They’re missing a few names, if they were looking to list all the admirers I’ve ever had. All the boys, for one.” For a long time, most of Masako’s friends had been boys, who’d come by to her house curious about Tohoru’s reputation as a ronin. They’d played pretend battles in the fields, sometimes with Tohoru pretending to be a bandit, taking them all on with a stick. As they grew older, a couple of the boys had asked her for more than friendship, but Masako hadn’t been interested. They’d stayed friends, or so she’d hoped. </p><p>Harunobu’s expression didn’t change. “I don’t expect you to feel for me the way I do for you, but I hope you’d someday be… fond of me. That you will give me children. That you’d keep faith in me, just as I will in you. Can you do that? Be honest.” </p><p>“Yes,” Masako said, surprised that Harunobu had to ask. “Or I wouldn’t have agreed to marry you. I don’t care if you’re a lord or a peasant. I wouldn’t marry someone under false pretences.” </p><p>Harunobu looked away, his hands flattening on his knees. “Then I don’t care about those people. Men or women.” </p><p>“Oh.” Surprise stole Masako’s anger, leaving confusion in its wake. “I thought you would be angry.” </p><p>“Why should I be angry? I’m luckier than they are. Soon, you’ll be my wife. Not theirs. It’s this enemy of yours that concerns me. Whoever it is, they know you well.” </p><p>“I honestly have no idea who it might be. Besides, they failed.” Masako reached out, patting Harunobu’s hand. He clasped her palm, stroking the calluses. “Frankly,” Masako said with a teasing smile, “I also thought you’d at least be jealous.”</p><p>Harunobu didn’t smile. “Angry? No. Jealous? Immensely. This has been eating at me since I received it. I couldn’t sleep.”</p><p>“Well,” Masako said, startled by Harunobu’s darkening mood, “the last of these festivals I went to, you found me sitting by myself in a bamboo grove eating mochi, so that should tell you how many romantic rivals you now have.” </p><p>Harunobu forced a smile. “I suppose so. Forgive me, I… tend to overthink matters. I wish we could be married tomorrow.” </p><p>“Harunobu!” They turned at the sound of an exclamation from Lady Mayumi. “The two of you shouldn’t be sneaking off like this before your marriage,” she said sternly, resplendent in silk beside an anxious Akemi in more sober clothes. </p><p>“I was just taking in the view,” Masako said, even as Harunobu got to his feet.</p><p>“I thought I might check on Masako, since she looked a little lost,” Harunobu said, drawing his mother away on a pretext of looking for something on behalf of his father. Akemi looked uncertainly after them, then knelt beside Masako as Masako patted the viewing platform. </p><p>“You look disoriented,” Akemi said, stroking Masako’s back.</p><p>Masako folded the letter away into her kimono. “I think his parents aren’t the only people who aren’t that happy about my marriage.”</p><p>“You mean Hana?” Akemi frowned. “What did she do now?”</p><p>“Hana? No.” All Hana had done was keep up her cold silence. “I don't know. It doesn’t matter.” Masako leaned into her mother’s flank, comforted by her warmth. “I’ll deal with Hana. She wants to marry into a samurai clan too, doesn’t she? We can all get what we want.” </p><p>Akemi stroked Masako’s hair. “Jealousy is a dangerous thing. A beast of a creature, one that will eat at you and eat at you until there is nothing left but hate—if you let it. Be careful.” </p><p>“Of Hana?” Masako said, surprised. </p><p>“Hana and others. Good fortune—especially fortune as great as yours—invites jealousy. Guard yourself. Lord Harunobu’s parents and Hana certainly aren't the only people disappointed about his choices.” </p><p>Masako nearly told Akemi of the letter, but it felt easier to let that go instead of worrying her mother some more. Maybe that was the problem. Not an admirer of hers, but of Harunobu. “I’m beginning to see that.”</p>
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</div>The wedding was formal and very private, held at the Golden Temple. Masako spent the day in a daze. She’d never worn anything as elegant as her white uchikake, or had to submit to hours of primping from servants. After the prayers and purification, as Masako exchanged sake with Harunobu in the san-san-kudo ceremony, she wondered if he was regretting it. He’d been quiet all day, his expression reflective as they took three sips from each of three sakazuki cups. As their parents drank in turn, she glanced at Harunobu, but he didn’t look at her. Masako’s heart dropped into her stomach. She barely managed composure through the sakaki offering, and couldn’t wait for the reception—where she’d be able to change out of the heavy headdress and have some breathing space.<p>It didn’t get better. The guests—all friends of Clan Adachi—eyed Masako with varying degrees of bemusement. The only friendly faces were Lord Kazumasa, who greeted her enthusiastically when introduced, and Lady Shimura Nahoko, the most beautiful woman present. Masako felt like a wilted flower beside her—even Hana couldn’t compare. Watching Lady Nahoko glide around the temple beside her brother was like watching some tennyo descended from heaven, blessing everyone with her presence. Small wonder Kazumasa blushed and got tongue-tied around her. Masako could commiserate.</p><p>As she sat with Harunobu at the head table in the large room in the Adachi holdings, Masako murmured, “Are you all right?” </p><p>Harunobu gave her a startled look. “What do you mean?”</p><p>“You’ve been very quiet.”</p><p>“So have you.” </p><p>Masako cast around awkwardly for something to say, her gaze darting around the room and landing yet again on Nahoko’s sheer beauty. “She looks like a divine spirit,” Masako said. What was it like to be so beautiful and highborn? “Can she use a naginata?” </p><p>“Every samurai woman learns how to use one,” Harunobu said, frowning as he followed Masako’s stare. His tone grew flat. “Lady Nahoko’s family’s been trying to marry her into a branch family of the Hōjō clan on the mainland.” </p><p>“Trying? Would it be hard? She’s so beautiful.” </p><p>“Lady Nahoko has been resisting the match, I hear. She doesn’t wish to leave Tsushima.” </p><p>“I can see why.” Getting married and being moved far away from her family? Masako would’ve dug in her heels too. “I hope they respect her wishes.” </p><p>Harunobu looked away, his hands clenching over his lap. “I was afraid of this.”</p><p>“Of what?” </p><p>“It’s how things are with Kazumasa. Whenever he lays eyes on Lady Nahoko, he forgets that everything else exists.” </p><p>Masako stared at Harunobu for a long moment. She laughed, startled, loud enough that her parents glanced over at her in surprise. Covering her mouth, Masako pretended to drink sake, grinning at Harunobu behind her sleeve. “You’re jealous! That’s hilarious. Is that why you’ve been so quiet all day?” </p><p>He glowered at her. “I’m glad that you find this amusing.” </p><p>“I’m not about to fling myself at her, or whatever you think I’m going to do,” Masako said, setting down the cup. “If anything, I can barely walk in this kimono. Besides, I’m surprised that <i>you</i> don’t find her beautiful.” </p><p>“She is, but I don’t see why people are so drawn to her just because of it.”</p><p>“Lady Nahoko strikes me as a kind, friendly, and generous woman. Something I might be drawn to, if I didn’t just exchange several vows with you in a temple,” Masako said, poking Harunobu under the table. “Or if I hadn’t been looking forward to being alone with you after. But feel free to ruin your wedding day.” </p><p>It was Harunobu’s turn to laugh loudly. He smiled warmly at her, the reserve replaced by a now-familiar adoration, one he wasn’t bothering to hide before all his distinguished guests. “You turn me into a fool,” Harunobu said fondly.</p><p>“Don’t blame me for your own mistakes.” </p><p>The rest of the day moved at a crawl. Masako was tired by the time they were alone in Harunobu’s room, though she kept stiffening at the faint sounds of footsteps from the floor below. “I’m never going to get used to that,” Masako told Harunobu. “Having so many people around.” </p><p>“In time.” Harunobu began to draw her close, but Masako stepped out of his grip. </p><p>“Let me get all these things out of my hair.” The headdress took a while to figure out, with Harunobu not being particularly helpful, and once Masako could loosen her hair and wash off the make-up, she let out a loud exhalation of relief that made him laugh. </p><p>Harunobu drew her over to the futon, pulling her into his lap as they unwrapped her outer layers, then his. He traced a thumb over the old scars that Masako wore, faded now to pale lines over her skin. Brown from her face and hands to her arms, pale beneath. The sun-touched look of a farmer, with the rangy muscle packed onto her frame to match. Yet Harunobu handled her like porcelain, as though she were as delicate as the other guests at their reception. </p><p>Masako bent to kiss him, chuckling as he trembled. “Why are you the one acting like a virgin bride on her wedding night?” Masako asked, poking him on the nose. “Aren’t you Lord Adachi Harunobu, the one they call the Kensei of Izuhara?” </p><p>“What does that have to do with anything?” Harunobu asked, though he dared to touch her curiously, trailing his palms carefully up her thighs. They kissed again as she shed her inner robes, as she loosened her underclothes and touched herself, fondling her folds as she grew wet. Harunobu made a curious noise, following her fingers with his own, tentative until she hummed in pleasure and rocked against his touch. Masako gasped as Harunobu pressed a finger inside her, as he kissed down her throat to her breasts, mouthing a nipple as it grew pert against his tongue. Arching, Masako groaned, grinding herself down to Harunobu’s knuckles. </p><p>“Have you done this before?” Masako asked, breathless as Harunobu tried working in another thick finger. </p><p>“No.” </p><p>“That’s surprising,” Masako said, with another breathless gasp. </p><p>“I’ve thought about it. With you. Since I met you,” Harunobu confessed, his breath hot against her skin. </p><p>“When you saw me covered in blood outside my family's farm?” Masako said, chuckling. She kissed Harunobu as he tried to explain, undoing his clothes to run her hands curiously over the packed muscle. It amused Masako to realise that she had more dramatic scars than her husband, though Harunobu sniffed when she said this, kissing her throat. </p><p>“No more,” he told her as he kissed back down to her nipples. “No one will hurt you again while I live.” </p><p>Even stretched by three fingers, taking in Harunobu was a tight fit, one that had Masako grimacing once she was fully seated. Harunobu clutched at her back, panting shallowly, as though already coming undone. Masako couldn’t resist teasing him. “Are all samurai men like this with their wives?” she asked, kissing Harunobu playfully on the nose. “If your friend Kazumasa ever somehow manages to marry Nahoko, is he going to faint once they get to the bedroom?”</p><p>“Let’s not talk about Kazumasa,” Harunobu said in a strangled voice, then he started to laugh, burying his mouth against Masako’s throat. “You’re terrible.” </p><p>“I thought he was going to pass out during the reception when she touched his arm.” </p><p>“You saw that too?” </p><p>“Everyone saw that. Her brother looked like he swallowed a yuzu.”</p><p>“Lord Shimura Akio and Kazumasa are good friends.” Harunobu shifted uncomfortably under Masako, taking in a slow breath to try and calm himself. </p><p>“That must be awkward.”</p><p>“It is.” Harunobu kissed Masako’s cheek, then her mouth, lingering over her lips. “Never mind the bedroom, he’d probably faint during the ceremony.”</p><p>“You didn’t. Does that mean you love me less than he loves her?” Masako asked, and grinned wickedly as Harunobu jerked back with a look of horror. Masako kissed him before he could sputter an answer and began to move over his lap, slowly at first, until the ache faded, then with more urgency, grinding against Harunobu as he cried out. The sweet winding tension within her grew tighter and tighter as Masako rode him, clawing for her own pleasure, moaning as Harunobu braced his feet and thrust against her, gasping her name. If this was a duel between them, Masako was winning; had already won. Harunobu’s hips jerked into a helpless stutter as he crushed her close, pumping inside her with a moan. </p><p>Masako squirmed, unsatisfied. She reached between them to touch herself through the mess, rubbing at her folds until Harunobu’s fingers joined hers, stroking until she keened and sank against him. Masako grinned breathlessly as Harunobu gave her a look of unabashed wonder. “That wasn’t so bad,” Masako decided. </p><p>“I…” Harunobu flushed. “I’ll get us cleaned up.”</p><p>“No,” Masako decided, staying where she was, pulling Harunobu closer. “We aren’t done.”</p>
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</div>Masako had her family moved into the Adachi clan housing, but could only handle a month of Hana’s open bitterness before even Harunobu began to look strained whenever Hana was in the vicinity. Thankfully, one of his vassal clan samurai was a widower, and seemed kindly enough, even if Hana was unsmiling through her wedding. What did she expect? There were no other daimyō lords their age other than Kazumasa, and the sun rose and set as Lady Nahoko in his world.<p>Harunobu tried to take the time to train her, but with his father passing him more responsibilities, most days, Masako trained by herself or with the kashindan. There wasn’t much else to do. The life of highborn samurai women seemed to involve an endless series of household management decisions, but even then, it was light work compared to life on the farm. Besides, Lady Adachi Mayumi handled most of it.</p><p>Masako took to duelling the kashindan. Two, then three at a time for the challenge. It went a long way toward earning their respect, and besides—she needed the entertainment. As she knocked down another kashindan, Masako stiffened at the sound of enthusiastic clapping behind her. She turned and stared at Lady Nahoko in surprise. </p><p>“Lady Nahoko! What are you doing here?”</p><p>“Visiting,” Nahoko said with a gentle smile. “My brother had some matter or other to speak to your husband about, so I thought I’d follow him. You’re excellent! I see the musicians are right.”</p><p>“Musicians?” Masako wished she wasn’t sweating into her clothes, again a drab bird next to the woman before her. </p><p>“O! Listen to the Tale of Lord and Lady Adachi,” Nahoko said, her voice taking on the sonorous, musical chant of a trained musician. “The legendary love between two kensei—”</p><p>Masako let out a gasp of laughter. “Stop it.” </p><p>“I’m not joking.” </p><p>“I’m hardly a kensei. I’m nowhere as good as my husband.” Even now, Masako couldn’t come close to beating Harunobu in a duel, and she could sense him holding back against her. “Or your brother.” Lord Shimura Akio had a reputation as a swordsman. </p><p>“My brother?” Nahoko smiled. “He’s a better teacher than he is a duellist.” She walked over to the rack, picking up one of the bokken. “I’ll show you. A round?”</p><p>“In your kimono?” </p><p>“I’ll try not to fall over,” Nahoko said, raising her bokken into a guard. </p><p>“I thought samurai women only learned the naginata,” Masako said. Nahoko held her bokken as though she knew how to use it.</p><p>“They’re meant to,” Nahoko said with a quick, playful smile. Masako laughed. She struck at Nahoko’s guard, feinting, careful not to damage her silk kimono. Nahoko clucked her tongue, parrying with surprising strength and breaking Masako’s guard, then tapping her on the arm. “Don’t take it so easy on me,” she said. </p><p>Curious, Masako came at Nahoko the way she would at Harunobu. The kimono hampered Nahoko’s movement, but she made up for it by anticipating Masako’s attacks and starting to move early, never falling for feints, only fighting on the defensive. She laughed as Masako finally managed to break her guard, pressing a pinpoint attack through that nearly touched her throat. </p><p>“You are <i>very</i> good,” Nahoko said. </p><p>Masako grinned, about to answer, only for Lord Shimura to snap, “Nahoko!” </p><p>The gentle smile smoothed off Nahoko’s face as she turned to regard her brother. “Done already?” she asked, looking curiously between Lord Shimura and Harunobu, who stared at Masako with a faint frown. </p><p>Lord Shimura gestured at the bokken in Nahoko’s hand. “This again?” </p><p>“What about it?” Nahoko asked. </p><p>“We’re leaving,” Lord Shimura said after an annoyed pause. </p><p>“You are,” Nahoko corrected. “Lady Masako asked me to stay for as long as I like, so I think I might take her up on the offer and remain for a few days.” </p><p>Harunobu’s frown deepened, even as Lord Shimura’s gaze snapped to Masako’s. All of a sudden, Masako had enough of both men. “That’s right. We were both about to have tea.” She took Nahoko’s bokken from her and racked the weapons, then made a show of bowing to the men and stalking off with Nahoko beside her. </p><p>“Sorry about inviting myself on you so rudely,” Nahoko whispered once they were out of earshot. “My brother means well, but he can be very… traditional.” </p><p>“I see it. Don’t worry. Your company is a pleasure.” Masako led her to one of the inner gardens, motioning awkwardly for a servant to get tea and refreshments. Nahoko smiled at her as they knelt by the pool, the limpid surface dotted with lanterns. </p><p>“How are you finding it here?” Nahoko asked. </p><p>“It isn’t so bad,” Masako said. “I thought it’d be worse.” </p><p>“It can be worse,” Nahoko murmured. “That is the horror of our lives.”</p><p>She looked so melancholy that Masako felt moved to say, “Sorry to hear that you might be married off against your wishes.” </p><p>Nahoko gave her a startled look. She said nothing until tea and small sweets came, sipping at her cup. “Do you know, you’re the first person to have ever said that to me?” </p><p>“Sorry to hear that too,” Masako said, popping one of the mochi into her mouth. </p><p>“It’s ironic,” Nahoko said, looking at the water. “Samurai women have the least amount of freedom, despite being born to the most amount of wealth. Born to be obedient to our fathers, then our husbands, then our sons. Never to have property of our own. Should we try to escape, it is only by turning to religion.” </p><p>“At least you can eat,” Masako said, eating another mochi. “That’s one of the strangest parts about this life. Being able to eat whenever I want. Several times a day.”</p><p>“Oh.” Nahoko blushed. “Of course. I don’t mean to compare my problems to those suffered by the far less fortunate.” </p><p>“Surely you can do something,” Masako said, with a dismissive wave. “You can’t get out of marrying, but maybe you can choose who to marry?”</p><p>“If I could, I wouldn’t be married at all,” Nahoko said wistfully. “I would choose to be free of all this. Not having to obey anyone.” </p><p>“So pick someone you can order around,” Masako said with a playful grin. </p><p>Nahoko laughed but sobered quickly. “I thought about that. There’s always a risk, though. That’s the way it is with men, powerful men. You have to be careful living with people for whom violence is second nature, no matter how strictly it’s bound in their so-called honour codes. For plenty of samurai women, life is a total misery, for all that we are taught to defend ourselves.” </p><p>“Then pick a man who will love you enough that the risk isn’t there,” Masako suggested, wondering whether it would be rude to namedrop Kazumasa. </p><p>“I’ve thought about that too.” Nahoko lowered her eyes, drinking her tea. “Yet love is a dangerous thing. It has its dark and ugly edges. It breeds envy, jealousy, and its cousin—hatred—is never too far away. I would rather not love at all if I could. Or be loved in the way that you describe.”</p><p>“It’s probably too late for that.” </p><p>“Yes,” Nahoko said, setting down her empty cup. “I know.”</p>
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</div>“I know you deserve to have more friends,” Harunobu complained once they were in bed together, “but does it have to be Lady Nahoko?”<p>“Why not?” Masako said, affecting surprise. “Isn’t she the most highborn woman on the island? You’re friends with her brother, aren’t you?” </p><p>“It isn’t the same.” </p><p>“Isn’t it?” Masako said, grinning. “After all, neither of us have any intention of sleeping with either sibling, do we? Or is there something about you and Lord Akio that you need to confess?” </p><p>Masako laughed as Harunobu choked and sputtered, still chuckling as he growled and rolled on top of her to kiss her. Harunobu mellowed as they kissed, until, embarrassed, he said, “The words I said were unworthy of me. I’m sorry.” </p><p>“Lady Nahoko did say something interesting. There are songs about us.” </p><p>“What? Why?” </p><p>“Something about a love story between two kensei,” Masako said, giggling at the startled look on Harunobu’s face. “I know. You, maybe. Not me.” </p><p>“I am interested in this song,” Harunobu said with a thoughtful look. “I should make inquiries.” </p><p>“You want to pay someone to spread stories about us across Tsushima?” Masako said, amused. She worked Harunobu’s clothes open, stroking her hands up his back teasingly. “The way stories like that would go, it’d mean we’d either have an oni of a son, or the greatest swordsman who ever lived.” </p><p>“Hopefully the latter,” Harunobu said, though he didn’t sound like he cared, unwrapping her reverently in turn, his fingers quick to get her wet. As he pushed inside her, Masako purred and wrapped her thighs around his hips.</p>
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</div>Pregnancy was nine months of torture, where the oddest smells set Masako to vomiting, and she could barely keep down most kinds of food. It made Harunobu’s parents far more kindly inclined toward her, but Masako was in no mood to enjoy it. The birth was long, difficult, and the worst pain of her life—by the time Masako finally held her newborn son in her arms, she was just powerfully relieved that it was over.<p>Over, for now. </p><p>Harunobu and their parents doted on Yasunari, all of them fighting for his attention. It would’ve been funny to watch, if Masako didn’t feel so strangely exhausted by life. She loved her son—she knew that in her soul—but she was exhausted by him too. By the way he cried every few hours, with a cry that jerked her out of whatever sleep she could fall into. By the way his existence both enriched her and frightened her and destroyed her. Masako grew quieter and quieter, more and more withdrawn. Harunobu didn’t even seem to notice. Busy as he was having to advise Clan Shimura on some rebellion brewing in Yarikawa. </p><p>As Masako watched her life fold ever smaller, ever darker, it was unexpectedly pierced by a needle of light in the form of a young servant girl, newly pressed into her service. Gregarious, gossipy, and shameless, Mai was a breath of chaos in the orderly lines of Masako’s new life, always ready with a little scrap of scandal that she assumed that her mistress liked as much as she did. Masako could not care less about the weirdly convoluted love lives of the clan cooks, but watching Mai laugh gleefully each time she reported on some new twist and turn was like gathering the dulled ashes within her and compressing it into coal, fanning in an ember, remembering what it was like to burn with her own light. </p><p>“He has such a cute nose,” Mai said, cooing over Yasunari as they sat by the inner garden pool. “Like a little flat pebble.” </p><p>“Is that meant to be cute?” Masako said, chuckling as she cradled her son. “He’s getting heavy, is what he is.”</p><p>“Like a fattened little boar.”</p><p>“Did you compare the heir to Clan Adachi to a pebble and then a boar?” Masako said, affecting outrage. “You dare.” </p><p>“I’ve seen the heir to Clan Adachi vomit a half-chewed cricket and make alarmingly green poo,” Mai said, unrepentant. “Someday, when Lord Yasunari grows up and inherits his father’s armour, I still won’t be able to unsee all of that.” </p><p>“Neither will I,” Masako said, giggling. “Oh no! Now you’ve done it.” </p><p>“At least he’d always fear his mother, unlike all the other samurai men,” Mai said, tickling Yasunari and making him chortle. “Given how good she is with a bow and sword.”</p><p>“His mother hasn’t practised at either for months.”</p><p>“Don’t you miss it?” </p><p>Did she? Masako hadn’t even noticed, drowning as she was in the dark, staring at nothing. “I… don’t know.”</p><p>“Of course you do,” Mai said, complacently poking Yasunari on the nose. “It’s who you are. Lady Adachi Masako, the one who is Lady Gozen Tomoe reborn.” </p><p>“Not at all,” Masako said, blushing. </p><p>“If you end up similarly following your husband into a pointlessly outnumbered battle and he ungratefully refuses to die beside you, I’d suggest beheading him and then the enemy,” Mai said with a cheeky grin. She laughed as Masako hurriedly shushed her, looking around frantically in case they were overheard.</p>
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</div>Masako went back to practice, and hadn’t realised how much she’d missed it. The weight of a bow in her hand, the presence of a sword. She thanked Mai by giving her the first of many gifts, one that was perhaps a little too extravagant—an exquisite comb. Mai exclaimed prettily over it in surprise, blushing and smiling shyly at Masako. It quickened Masako’s heart, warming her.<p>There was none of the strange tension she sometimes felt between herself and Harunobu. With Mai, it was as though they could read each other’s minds, sense the give and take of each other’s souls. They could finish each other’s thoughts, anticipate each other’s sentences. With Harunobu away on campaign in Yarikawa, Masako spent all her time either training, or with Mai and Yasunari.</p><p>Masako taught Mai how to ride, and they began taking long rides together away from the clan holdings, racing each other in the fields. Finding gorgeous, quiet corners in the wide world that felt like theirs, glorious in any season. Mai gasped as Masako showed her the hidden pool with the blue flowers, her face going alive with delight as she rushed over, laughing as the ducks panicked and flew off, quacking at her in reproach. Mai threw herself on the flowers and grass with a whoop of joy and grinned as Masako sat down beside her. </p><p>“I’ve never been so happy,” Mai said, looking up at the sky.</p><p>Masako smiled. “What’s that you like to say? Mention something good, and something terrible is bound to happen?”</p><p>“I dare it to happen.” Mai looked up at Masako, joyous. “I’m in the company of a kensei, who’d beat whatever it is up.” </p><p>“Hardly a kensei,” Masako said, though she smiled, flattered the way she usually wasn’t when others said the same thing. </p><p>“Flowers, the warm sun, a nice day…” Mai grinned cheekily up at Masako. “If I were your husband, I would have you right here.” </p><p>“Mai!” Masako said, laughing and blushing. </p><p>“You mean he didn’t? In this special place where he met you twice a week for months?” Mai tsked loudly. “What a waste. If I were him, you would’ve been pregnant much earlier.” </p><p>“Stop it,” Masako said, smacking Mai on the arm. She yelped as Mai pulled her over, huffing as Masako sprawled on top of her. They froze—Masako wide-eyed, Mai with a tentative, vulnerable smile.</p><p>“Lady Masako,” Mai whispered. “Forgive me.” She pulled Masako up for a nervous kiss, then moaned as Masako gasped and kissed her back. </p><p>This was a dam, breaking; the shattering point of a sword, an arrow whistling loose. Masako’s world broke and was remade, crystalline-clear, her groan welling up within her and tearing free everything she had forgotten. How to love like the bleeding edge of a storm, with each touch sparking lightning through her veins. How to touch someone as though the world was ending, to burn the scent and taste of them under her skin.</p>
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</div>Love was jokes in the rain, unwise gifts that grew more unwise. Love was giggling as Yasunari accidentally broke an expensive gift of sake from Clan Shimura and hiding the evidence together. Love was stolen touches in dark corners; their mouths pressed desperately together. Love was learning to love again, again and again in ways Masako never thought herself capable of. It was her mouth between Mai’s thighs on her marriage bed. It was writing poems to each other, tracing the words on their skin. Love was more terrible and more joyous and more ruinous than Masako could have imagined. Love was knowing how all this would damn them both and being unable to care.<div class="center">
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</div>Harunobu returned from Yarikawa, victorious but sober. “Too much death,” he said when Masako asked him about it, and wouldn’t elaborate. He softened as Masako presented their son to him, and laughed as Yasunari, carefully coached, managed a squeaky little “Chichi-ue.” They tangled on their futon, tender and slow. The same, yet different. Masako was pensive as Harunobu curled against her after, stroking her arm.<p>“What’s wrong?” Harunobu asked, breathing in the scent of her hair. </p><p>“How long will you be home this time?”</p><p>“For the near future, I hope. Clan Shimura can clean up Yarikawa without me.” Harunobu kissed Masako’s temple. “Every day, I was tempted to ride home to see you.” </p><p>“I could have come to Yarikawa,” Masako said, in place of everything else she wished she could say. </p><p>“You would have been terrifying on the battlefield,” Harunobu said, chuckling, “but who would be here, protecting our son?” </p><p>“Your father isn’t that far gone,” Masako said, though the reason Harunobu’s father hadn’t gone to Yarikawa with him was because he could no longer ride or walk long distances without growing tired. </p><p>“You’re better with a blade than he is.” </p><p>“I don’t know. I’m out of practice now, since my best sparring partner went off to war for so long.” </p><p>“I’m back now,” Harunobu said, shifting over for a kiss. Tender and soft. The same, yet different. Was this love as well? Masako could not be sure.</p>
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</div>The uncertain new balance to Masako’s world, with Harunobu weighted at the centre, didn’t last long. Perhaps someone told, perhaps he guessed. Masako had hardly been subtle, and subtlety was not part of Mai’s nature. Their private jokes, their ways of finishing each other’s words. The way Yasunari laughed far more easily in Mai’s presence than in his father’s. So much to regret, in hindsight, and yet Masako could not bring herself to feel it.<p>Masako knew it was over when she returned to the room she shared with Harunobu to find him waiting for her, the latest unwise gift for Mai in his hands. A jade flute, a bridal gift from Clan Tanaka, one that had lain unused and forgotten in storage until Mai had found it while cleaning up and exclaimed over its craftsmanship. </p><p>“I asked you whether you could keep faith with me,” Harunobu said, his voice distant. “You said that you could.” </p><p>Masako knew that she should kneel. Beg for forgiveness, perhaps. Yet begging had never been in her nature, whether it was for mercy or her life. Always, always, she could only choose to attack. “Mai was a friend to me when I needed one. I was drowning until I met her.”</p><p>“A friend?” Harunobu forced out a mirthless laugh. “Do you give friends—a friend who is your servant—clan heirlooms as gifts? Do you ride out with them for hours on end? Spend all your waking hours with them? Tell me, Masako. Did Mai steal this flute, or did she steal your heart? I can forgive one, but not the other.” </p><p>“Forgive?” Masako asked, unable to help but hope, even though she knew what was coming.</p><p>“Drive her from our home as a thief,” Harunobu said, each word measured and cold, “or I’ll have her flogged in the courtyard.” </p><p>Masako stiffened, paling. “This isn’t her fault at all! If you want to punish someone, punish <i>me</i>.”</p><p>“Decide,” Harunobu said, handing Masako the flute. He turned his back on her, his hands clenching into fists. </p><p>What choice did Masako have but to look for Mai? To watch her face light up as Masako drew her aside, only to crumple into tears as Masako told her to leave. “You have to leave tonight,” Masako whispered, trying to steel her own heart. “I shouldn’t have given you the heirlooms. I’m sorry.” </p><p>“Lord Harunobu will brand me a thief over some gifts?” Mai wailed.</p><p>“I’m sorry. I tried to explain.”</p><p>“You tried, but there’s no explaining, is there? Not over this.” Mai clasped Masako’s hands, squeezing tightly. “Come with me.”</p><p>“What?” </p><p>“We can go north. To your sister’s. Or across the sea to the mainland. Start over somewhere else. Away from here.” </p><p>“Mai,” Masako said, choking out the name. “I can’t.” </p><p>“You’re a kensei, Masako. Even if you weren’t, you’re one of the strongest people I know. Come. Please.”</p><p>“I can’t leave my son,” Masako said, helpless. Love, where Mai was concerned, was like a bleeding storm—but love where Yasunari was concerned was the sea, consuming everything else that it met. “I’m sorry.” </p><p>“We could take him with us.” </p><p>“Mai.” Masako squeezed Mai’s hands. “No. I’m sorry. Even were I willing to take Yasunari from his birthright, we would never escape. Not with the heir of a daimyō clan. Go. I’m so sorry.” </p><p>“Over a damned <i>flute</i>,” Mai whispered, her eyes bright with tears. </p><p>“Over all that we feel,” Masako corrected, “and all that we were.” She pushed the flute into Mai’s hands with a tremulous smile. “Take it. Take the damned flute. Everything else, too. Sell them, and have a better life.” </p><p>“What life would that be without you?”</p><p>“Please. Go.” </p><p>Mai leaned in, kissing Masako bruisingly hard on her mouth. “I’d have made you a better husband than your husband,” she said, one last cheeky joke, said through tears and a trembling lip. </p><p>“I know,” Masako said, letting her go. “I’m sorry.”</p>
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</div>The world folded itself down again, smaller and smaller. Masako stopped speaking to Harunobu, stopped going to practice. She spent all her time with Yasunari. At night, she slept with her back to her husband, who grew equally quiet. The wound clawed open between them grew wider and wider yet, festering. Into the ugliness that was Masako’s life without Mai, Nahoko returned, cheerful and newly betrothed to Kazumasa.<p>Masako managed politeness, but once they were alone by the garden pool, Nahoko turned to her with open concern. “Masako, what’s wrong?” </p><p>“Nothing.” Masako smiled unevenly. “Congratulations? On your betrothal. I thought your family wouldn’t have permitted you to marry into a vassal clan. How did you manage it?”</p><p>“By lying to a good man and betraying my family,” Nahoko said with a smile so carelessly bright that Masako couldn’t help but let out a startled laugh. </p><p>“Really?” </p><p>“More or less. It’s why I’m here. I’m in everyone’s bad graces over in Castle Shimura, and I’d like to throw myself on your mercy until the wedding if possible. But first.” Nahoko clasped Masako’s hands. “What’s wrong?” She lowered her voice. “Is it Lord Harunobu?” </p><p>“It’s my own foolishness,” Masako said, clenching her jaw. “A sordid tale in many ways.”</p><p>“Love is never sordid,” Nahoko said gently. At Masako’s startled look, she patted their hands. “What else could it be, to break you so? I’m sorry.” </p><p>“I was in the wrong.”</p><p>“That doesn’t make me any less sorry. We can’t decide who we love. If we could, life would be a lot less messy. A lot more boring. I wouldn’t even be here—I’d be on the mainland.” Nahoko squeezed her hands. “Forgive yourself.” </p><p>“Shouldn’t you be asking me to forgive Harunobu?”</p><p>“Why? That’s a matter for you to decide, as husband and wife. As your friend, however, I’m asking you to forgive yourself. Not now. Maybe in a year. Maybe ten years. What is done is done.”</p><p>Masako smiled wanly, the first smile she’d managed since Mai had left. “Thank you.”</p><p>“You would’ve done the same for me.” </p><p>“Enough of my problems,” Masako decided. “Tell me yours.” </p><p>“I might have told Kazumasa that due to his heroic efforts in Yarikawa, a formal offer of marriage would be kindly looked upon,” Nahoko said, with an innocent look. “Then accepted it on my clan’s behalf without them knowing until a wedding date was set.” </p><p>Masako gawked at her. “Does that even work?” </p><p>“It did, but everyone’s furious. That’s why I’m here.”</p><p>“Even Kazumasa?” </p><p>“Everyone’s furious except him,” Nahoko corrected. “If it wouldn’t be a scandal, I’d have just gone to Omi Village to stay. That’ll be too much for my brother to swallow, however. It’s why I’m here. I’ll do anything. Sparring partner? Babysitting? Name it.” </p><p>“You could help me mind Yasunari,” Masako said, amused. “After you’ve had to stop him from accidentally drowning himself or climbing everything within reach a few times, you’ll regret leaving the castle.” </p><p>Masako was braced for it, but strangely, Harunobu said nothing at all about Nahoko’s reinstallation into their lives. Was the bitterness between them now that deep? Masako wished she didn’t care.</p>
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</div>Bitter winters took first Harunobu’s parents, then Masako’s. The funerals for Harunobu’s parents were elaborate affairs that Masako suffered through in grim silence, exchanging only a few words with Nahoko and Kazumasa. Those for her parents were smaller. Quiet. Hana rode in from the north, drawn and pale. Each time, she tried to speak to Masako after, but Masako felt like she was drifting through the wind, watching herself go through the motions from far away. She returned little words of comfort to her sister, staying quiet.<p>A week after Akemi’s funeral, now an orphan, Masako took up her sword and bow. She kissed Yasunari and left the boy with his appointed minder, and rode out into the deep winter. First to the farm, long given to caregivers to maintain. Then, wandering aimlessly, she found herself at the hidden pond. The snow had eaten away the flowers, iced up the water, the ducks flown elsewhere for winter. Masako knelt on the snow beside the ice until it melted away beneath her to grass.</p><p>As the world grew colder, darker, someone knelt beside her on the grass. A man in a straw hat and a pale blue kimono, her husband’s blades thrust through his obi. Both them older, but not much wiser. Masako wished she could be surprised that Harunobu was here, with nothing but grievances between them. </p><p>“I’m very tired,” Masako whispered. </p><p>Harunobu nodded. He looked pale and gaunt under the hat, thinner than Masako remembered. Deep shadows smudged under his eyes, a mirror to hers. Yet he did not speak. They breathed together for a while, until their breaths began to sync. Only then did Masako get to her feet. She backed away in the snow, drawing her blade, the first gift between them and maybe the last. As she beckoned, Harunobu stared at her, then he pulled the hat down over his eyes and got to his feet. </p><p>Masako had improved since the last time she’d fought Harunobu here, but not enough. Not against a true kensei. Still. It was not in her nature to retreat. Nor was it in her nature to fight like samurai were taught to fight. Masako screamed her rage into the stillness of winter as she charged her husband, allowing it to temper the fury of her blows. She snarled her grief and heartbreak as she parried Harunobu’s graceful answering strikes. All but the last, allowing it to come. As Harunobu turned his katana at the last moment, Masako stood her ground and drove her blade at Harunobu’s unprotected flank. He jerked away awkwardly, gasping as the sharp edge tore a wound across his ribs. </p><p>“Don’t insult me,” Masako grit out, backing away and flicking Harunobu’s blood over the snow. Harunobu clenched his jaw, but with the hat in the way, Masako couldn’t read him further than that. </p><p>This time, when Harunobu attacked, Masako finally realised how much he’d been holding back. He opened shallow wounds over her arms, narrowly gashed open her thigh. This only made her angrier. Masako roared as she drove Harunobu back with heavy overhead strikes. As Harunobu dodged clear, Masako threw the dagger in her sleeve at his face. Somehow, he jerked aside, enough that it only cut open his cheek. </p><p>“Are you genuinely trying to kill me?” Harunobu said, his voice hoarse. The first words he’d said to her since Mai.</p><p>“What do you think?” Masako wished she brought another dagger. Too late now. </p><p>“I could have cut you down by now.” </p><p>“Why haven’t you?” </p><p>“How could I do that to the mother of my son?”</p><p>Masako’s lip curled. “Don’t you dare bring Yasunari into this.” </p><p>“Why shouldn’t I? He is our <i>son</i>. Could he forgive either of us for doing this?” </p><p>“I don’t seek forgiveness. Not his, not yours.” </p><p>“Was I in the wrong?” Harunobu demanded, low and furious. “Didn’t I show the both of you far more mercy than either of you deserved?” </p><p>“Oh, keep talking,” Masako said. Anger had only ever made her stronger. Faster. This time, she managed a cradle of attacks quicker than even Harunobu could safely parry, turning his arms bloody, gashing him high on the shoulder. He gasped in surprise, staggering back. Then—Masako couldn’t quite follow what happened next. Harunobu went from standing still to being much closer, the tip of his katana aimed at Masako’s throat. </p><p>Masako blinked, startled into amazement. “How did you even do that?” </p><p>“Something I taught myself in Yarikawa. Yield.” </p><p>Masako smiled, baring her teeth. “You don’t know me at all, if you think I will.” </p><p>“No,” Harunobu said, rueful. “I know you won’t. It’s one of the reasons I love you.” </p><p>The words, so frankly spoken, tore away at the edge of Masako’s black temper, scraping away her grief. She frowned at him until Harunobu lowered his blade. “You don’t believe me,” he said. </p><p>“Should I?” </p><p>“I knew this would happen if I forced you to drive that woman away. Yet even now, I would do it again. I’d rather break everything between us than have you without having you. Than watch you love someone else.” </p><p>“So finish it,” Masako said.</p><p>“I won’t beg you to forgive me when I’m not the one in the wrong,” Harunobu said, tipping up his hat to reveal his haunted eyes, “but I’m not above begging you to come home with me.” He flicked his blade clean, sheathing it. When Masako stared at him in silence, Harunobu slowly went down on a knee. “Masako. Please.” </p><p>Harunobu didn’t even flinch as Masako rested the edge of her blade against his throat. As it drew a fine line of blood into Harunobu’s collar, Masako tipped up her chin, howling the last of her agony and rage into the heart of winter. She tossed her katana aside, dropping to her knees and clenching her fists in Harunobu’s kimono, kissing him hard enough to cut her lips on his teeth.</p>
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</div>Shigesato was born into the first blush of autumn, over a pregnancy that was even more uncomfortable than the first. It made permanent the ceasefire Masako and Harunobu brokered between themselves, moving them toward an unspoken, cautiously navigated mutual agreement to pick up the shattered trust between them and piece it into something new. Stronger, maybe. Different, certainly.<p>Once Shigesato could toddle along at his own speed—an alarmingly fast pace—Nahoko visited, this time with her son Jin, a child who could still only crawl. The men went to have a celebratory drink. Nahoko and Masako played with their children by the pool, plying them with colourful pinwheels. </p><p>“You look better,” Nahoko told Masako, smiling gently. </p><p>“Now that this little monster lets me sleep again through an entire night, sure,” Masako said, picking up Shigesato and kissing him affectionately on the cheek. “Nahoko, a word of advice? Stop at one. One boy is bad. Two boys is a constant disaster.” </p><p>“You say that now,” Nahoko said, giggling, “but maybe the next time I’m here there’d be one more? A little girl, perhaps.”</p><p>“Gods, no. No more. I will stab Harunobu in his equipment if he gets me pregnant again.”</p><p>“Masako!” Nahoko gasped, shocked. She burst into laughter, laughter that Masako shared. </p><p>“I’m glad that you look well,” Masako said, as she yet again turned Shigesato away from trying to drown himself in the pond. “I keep hearing that you’re ill.” </p><p>“Now and then. It comes and goes.” </p><p>“Take better care of yourself,” Masako said, concerned. “For your son’s sake, at least. Husbands are useless.” </p><p>Nahoko giggled, covering her mouth. “I will. Don’t worry. If anything happens, my brother’s just as bad as I am. If you watch him with Jin, sometimes you’d think Jin is his son, not his nephew.” </p><p>“He’s forgiven you, then?” </p><p>“It was either that or never being allowed near Jin.”  </p><p>“You’re a hard woman,” Masako said, laughing. “I should learn from you. How to bend the unbending to my will.”</p><p>“You?” Nahoko said, surprised. “You’re fine as you are.” As Masako opened her mouth to disagree, Nahoko traced a fine line over her throat, sketching the pale scar still noticeable over Harunobu’s collar.</p><p>“Right,” Masako said, a little embarrassed.</p><p>“Don’t be shy.” Nahoko patted Masako’s knee. “You should hear the musicians now that word got out that you and Lord Harunobu returned home with only him cut to ribbons. That the kensei’s wife is the true master of the blade in Tsushima, a divine incarnation of Takemikazuchi.” </p><p>Years ago, Masako would’ve demurred or blushed. Now, she laughed. “The next time you hear one of those songs, invite the musician here on my behalf. I’ll make sure that he goes away with an even better story.”</p>
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</div>Shigesato grew to be more like Harunobu—quiet and serious, if more difficult to push into a rage. Yasunari was more like Masako, loud and brash, quick to anger, a walking storm of a man. If he weren’t also far more agreeable than she was, Masako would’ve been concerned. Perhaps naturally, it was Yasunari who married a gentle mouse of a woman, and Shigesato who married an element of chaos.<p>During Miho’s first month living in the Adachi clan holdings, while pouring tea for Masako at the viewing platform, Miho grinned playfully and said, “You’re quite different from the songs.” </p><p>Masako hid her answering smile by sipping her tea. It was harder to conceal the dulled ache she felt whenever Miho kept her company, an echo of a wound. Miho looked nothing like Mai, was little like Mai. Yet there was something in her constant, unrepentant mischief that was far too much like the woman Masako had loved. “Oh?” Masako said. </p><p>“I thought you would be taller. More frightening. Angrier. Is it true that you nearly killed chichi-ue in a duel?” </p><p>“We nearly killed each other,” Masako corrected. “He’s the one who convinced me to stop.” </p><p>“With a kiss?” Miho asked, with a cheeky grin utterly unworthy of her highborn birth. </p><p>“Is this going into one of your stories?” Masako had heard a rumour in the household grapevine that Miho was a talented storyteller, someone who loved entertaining both her friends and the staff alike with her animated tales of horror and/or romance.</p><p>“Haha-ue,” Miho said, feigning innocence, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. After all, my husband, your son, said that storytelling is beneath me. Even though some of the greatest books ever written are by Lady Shikibu Murasaki, two hundred years ago.”</p><p>“Don’t get me involved in a dispute between yourself and my son,” Masako said, chuckling. </p><p>“Why, because you’ll side with him?” </p><p>“No, because I’m not above teaching him a lesson at his age, and that might damage any remaining respect that you have for him.” </p><p>Miho laughed in delight. “Haha-ue, I never knew that you liked stories so much. Why don’t you come to my next session? I’ll look for you before I start.” </p><p>“I’ll be pleased to,” Masako said, drinking her tea as she wrote yet another letter to the empty space beside her in her mind, one of hundreds now. <i>Mai, where are you? How are you? I hope you are well, and wish you happiness. I’m sorry.</i></p>
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</div>“I don’t see why <i>we</i> can’t write pre-battle poems too,” Miho said as Masako knelt with her and Ikue by the pond, waiting for their husbands. Ikue lowered her head, cradling her newborn son. Miho’s son, a boy of three, snored loudly while pillowed against Masako’s lap.<p>“Who says we can’t? Write one right now,” Masako told her. </p><p>“Only if you do. Ikue too,” Miho said, peering over at Yasunari’s wife.</p><p>“I don’t write poems,” Ikue said in her soft, barely audible voice. “I’m sorry. It won’t be any good.” </p><p>“Let’s compete to write bad poems, then. The worst poem wins a cask of sake,” Miho suggested. “We could ask your sister to join us.”</p><p>Despite Masako’s misgivings, she chuckled. Her husband and sons had told her the truth of the size of the Mongol army coming for their shores, a truth that they had not shared with Ikue or Miho. Even were they told, could they understand it? They had been born samurai women, born to believe in the insular, unbreakable power of their world. They had not seen how brutal life could be. </p><p>“Hana said that she was tired. Let’s not disturb her.” Hana had arrived yesterday with her husband and his kashindan, startlingly different. She’d looked so much older. Masako wished she’d noticed before. “You first,” Masako told Miho. </p><p>Miho made a show of closing her eyes and centring her breathing, sitting up straight. As she hummed, even Ikue cracked a faint smile. “The dark of the night / Falls prey to the dying wind / I want ohagi.” </p><p>Masako burst out laughing, and Ikue covered her mouth, her shoulders trembling. “Your turn now, haha-ue,” Miho said, grinning. </p><p>“How about this? My daughters-in-law / Wise and beautiful women / Too good for my sons.” </p><p>“Haha-ue!” Ikue gasped, even as Miho yelped and couldn’t stop giggling, until Masako had to pat her on the back and pass her some tea.</p><p>“Now you,” Miho told Ikue.</p><p>Ikue smiled warmly at them both. “What is fate but luck / Three cups of sake or tea / Beneath wither’d trees.”</p><p>“I said a bad poem, Ikue,” Miho said, making a show of pouting. </p><p>“But it is! It lacks a proper kireji,” Ikue said, surprised.</p><p>“Mine lacks both kireji and kigo, I win,” Masako decided as Miho began to argue. </p><p>“I demand a rematch,” Miho said, even as they heard footsteps come up behind them. </p><p>Masako glanced over her shoulder and gently passed her grandson to Miho. She got to her feet, walking over to Yasunari, who smiled at her with his usual recklessness, kissing her on her forehead as she stroked his arms and then his cheek. Then Shigesato, who stared her soberly in the eyes as she straightened his collar. Masako waited beside Harunobu as their sons collected their children and wives, retiring with polite goodnights. Only then did Masako draw in a shaky, uneven breath. </p><p>“It will be fine,” Harunobu said, stroking her back now that they were alone.</p><p>“Eighty of you against a vast army that has conquered so many of our neighbours? Don’t lie to me.” </p><p>“I didn’t mean us,” Harunobu said, “I meant you, and our grandchildren, and Miho and Ikue. Even Hana. You are here. They will be fine.” </p><p>“How ‘fine’ will I be without our sons? Or you?” Masako whispered. Tears curled their way down her cheeks. </p><p>Harunobu gave her a startled look that he guarded quickly, drawing her away to their room. They kissed, shedding their clothes with rare urgency, so far away from their youth and with everything they had done to each other between them. This was not love the way it had been with Mai, and yet it was also the same, come too late and just in time. Masako wept as Harunobu took her, as he breathed her name against her skin, as she kissed the mark she had cut against his throat.</p>
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</div>Masako stood beneath a withered tree, howling her grief, blood and dirt caked under her fingernails. In the graves before her—three large ones, two painfully, heartbreakingly small—lay half the people she had ever loved. Dead to an army of mercenaries who had attacked out of nowhere and overwhelmed the skeletal Adachi defences. She knew the rest of her family were also gone: had felt that deep in her bones as the nights grew colder and quieter. Had known it, watching the Mongol army begin to swarm over the lands she called home. Dazed, Masako haunted a world that had once trapped her and sustained her, that had both destroyed her and fulfilled her.<p>It was not in Masako’s nature to fall on her knees and break. It would’ve been easier if it were. Rage forced her to keep walking, to breathe, to spend her hours remembering all that she had lost. Rage would keep Masako alive, even as she wished for less. Some kensei she was.</p>
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</div>There had been nothing left of Harunobu to bury. Jin helped Masako move Yasunari’s and Shigesato’s bodies to the lighthouse they had loved as boys, asking her to rest as he dug their graves. She watched him as he shovelled dirt over the broken bodies of her sons, too exhausted for anything but emptiness. As Jin drove her sons’ blades before their graves and piled marker stones against the steel, Masako said, “Thank you.”<p>“I miss them too,” Jin said. He backed away, pressing his palms together, bowing and closing his eyes. After he was done, he looked at Masako with concern. “You should eat.” </p><p>“I can’t hold down much nowadays,” Masako said, distracted. “I don’t have an appetite.” </p><p>“You need the strength. To find and pursue the people who attacked and wronged your family.” </p><p>“Don’t lecture me. I’m not in the mood. When was the last time you ate? Or slept?”</p><p>Jin smiled wanly. “I’m not sure. How about this. I’ll go hunting and make camp over there. Honour me with your company for dinner, or I might get lonely.”</p><p>“You’re so much like your mother,” Masako said. Jin gave her a startled look but retreated when she said nothing more. Dinner was a small disaster until Masako shoved Jin aside and took over, roasting the small boar that he caught. Somehow, she kept it down, even if the smell of cooking flesh unsettled her stomach.</p><p>“I don’t remember my mother,” Jin said as they ate. </p><p>“The most beautiful woman in the world.” Masako stared at the fire, dragged too far past all that she had been for anything but the truth. “Harunobu used to be jealous of her.” </p><p>“Lord Adachi? Why?” Jin asked, blinking. </p><p>“She had a beauty so great that it would silence any room that she graced. Once, your father walked into a tree when he saw her emerging from a house.” </p><p>“That must have been embarrassing.” </p><p>“For him, certainly. I laughed. Your uncle and Harunobu weren’t as amused. Harunobu thought I would be like your father. Bewitched.” Masako shook her head. “She was beautiful, sure, but it was everything else about her that I liked. A fiercely loyal friend.”</p><p>“I hope to be worthy of her memory,” Jin said, watching the fire. </p><p>“That isn’t what mothers want for their children.” Masako patted Jin on the knee. “Live for yourself, in a way where you can be proud of who you are. That’s all that she would want.”</p>
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</div>Once, Masako would have given anything to see Mai again. Now, as they parted—on gentler terms—Masako was dully surprised that it didn’t ache as much as she thought it would. Jin grew pensive as they rode away, until Masako said, “You have questions.”<p>“It isn’t any of my business.” </p><p>“You even say that like your mother would say it,” Masako said. “Right before she’d then say something wise and deep, startling me into telling her everything.”</p><p>“I’m not like her then,” Jin said, flashing Masako a tired smile. “I’m neither wise nor deep. Lady Masako, life is a balance. For most of us, it skews one way or the other, yet never completely. In joy, sorrow. In loss, relief. After you find justice for your clan—”</p><p>“Such a liar,” Masako said, unable to manage a smile, but huffing with something close to wry amusement. Close enough. “There you go, just like your mother.” </p><p>“Life doesn’t have to come to an end just because you feel that it should,” Jin said, now with his father’s stubbornness. </p><p>“Speak for yourself. You weren’t that much younger than my sons. Why aren’t you married?”</p><p>Jin stared at her. “You want to bring that up? Now?”</p><p>“You used to be very close to that young man, Ryuzo,” Masako said. She’d watched more than disappointment chase its way across Jin’s face when Ryuzo hadn’t appeared for their assault on Castle Kaneda. More than simple betrayal when he’d explained curtly afterwards that Ryuzo had switched sides. </p><p>Jin’s mouth set into a grim line. “I’ll deal with him.” </p><p>“Your mother once advised me about the importance of forgiving myself,” Masako said, watching Jin steadily. “Ryuzo made his own choices. Hard as they may be to swallow.”</p><p>Jin set his jaw. “You’d counsel me to forgive him? The way you forgave Mai?”</p><p>“I would counsel you to forgive yourself. It’s easier to see what your choices are once you do.” </p><p>“Some things are unforgivable,” Jin said, looking back at his shoulder at the grassy knoll.</p>
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</div>It was Hana. Of course, it was Hana. How could Masako not have noticed the depths of her sister’s pain and hatred before? Too late now. In the ashes that remained as Masako’s revenge grew complete, her driving rage guttered and chilled, leaving her with nothing.<div class="center">
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</div>After the Khan’s death, Masako returned home. Lord Shimura sent a brace of kashindan to accompany and assist her, and some of the surviving volunteers from Yarikawa followed, bringing their families. It felt strange to see the bloodstains washed away, the housing rebuilt, the pool swept clean and tidied. Jin visited, always in the night. Sometimes, Yuna did. Once, even Ishikawa came by.<p>“I’m glad that you didn’t kill your uncle,” Masako said as she drank tea with Jin by the viewing platform. </p><p>“I’m tired of death,” Jin said, his fingers tightening on his cup. “Tired of having to bury the people I treasure.” </p><p>“It’s a good sentiment. One that I wish more people would share.” </p><p>“You look good,” Jin said, smiling tentatively. “Less thin.” </p><p>“Surely not. I still don’t have much of an appetite. Can’t even keep down most of the food I eat…” Masako trailed off, a dawning realisation settling over her. </p><p>Oblivious, Jin said, “Are you ill? I could look for a healer.” He stared, surprised, as Masako began to laugh, the first huge, unbroken laugh she’d made since the death of all she had known. A sound of both joy and despair. “Lady Masako?” </p><p>“It’s nothing. If Harunobu had survived Komoda Beach, he’d have earned a stabbing.” </p><p>“What? Why?” Jin asked, anxious now. “What’s wrong?” </p><p>“Nothing,” Masako said with a wan smile. “Remember what you said about life being a balance? Hah. At my age, too. That man.” When Jin continued to stare uncomprehendingly at her, Masako poured him more tea. “Drink, drink.”</p>
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</div>“I don’t know why Jin thought this was so important,” Yuna said as she rode into the Adachi grounds, “but here.” She dismounted, helping the woman behind her off the saddle.<p>Masako gasped. Mai smiled. Shyly at first, reddening, then the familiar mischief returned as she looked Masako over, then Yuna. “Uprooted from my home in Yarikawa for this?” she asked.</p><p>“Ghosts and their whims,” Yuna said. She studied Masako for a long moment, noting the now-noticeable swell in her belly. “Huh. Jin said you were very ill. Did he just not even…? <i>Men</i>.” </p><p>“Stay as long as you like,” Masako told Yuna, impatient to be alone. She drew Mai away to the inner garden, careful to keep her balance. Once it was just them, Mai laughed, the joyous, roguish laugh that had long burned itself into Masako’s mind, lingering as loving scars. </p><p>“At your age? Only you, kensei. Miracles must be nothing to a divine incarnation of Takemikazuchi,” Mai said. </p><p>“Stop it,” Masako said, smiling broadly and no longer caring if anyone saw it. She reached over to clasp Mai by the hand, and Mai squeezed back. </p><p>“Why am I here?” Mai asked. </p><p>“I didn’t realise it before, but as it so happens, I’m in the market for a companion. A friend. A confidant, a partner. Someone who will be the light of my life, for what’s left of it.”</p><p>“Hm,” Mai said, pretending to think it over. “I don’t know anyone who might fit. How many interviews do you have lined up?” </p><p>“Just the one.” Masako turned, clasping Mai’s other hand. “If she’s willing to forgive me.” </p><p>Mai smiled, tender and joyous and relieved. “I forgave you a long time ago,” she whispered. “How could I not? You were my whole world. You still are.” </p><p>“Then walk with me again,” Masako said, drawing Mai close. “Again and again. In this life and the next.” She bent as Mai’s fingers drifted up to her cheeks, their breaths shivering between them as they closed their eyes, listening to the wind.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>twitter: @manic_intent<br/>my prompt policy, writing, original work: manicintent.carrd.co<br/>--<br/>Refs:<br/>https://www.japanvisitor.com/japanese-culture/weddings<br/>How old is Masako and can she safely get pregnant at her age? Answer: Safe? Probably not. Possible? The oldest natural (non IVF) birth on record atm is at 59. Assuming Masako’s kids are around Jin’s age, and she marries early, she’d probably be in her late 40s or so in the game, and maybe looks older because of grief… at least to me anyway. Either way, this is a game where you can magically change your clothes during combat so, /handwave, let’s just assume it all goes well and the child becomes the most babied kid on Tsushima.</p><p>Ah, probably shouldn't have assumed people knew this, but the title of this fic is from the film of the same name, the Japanese samurai-western remake of Unforgiven. It has Ken Watanabe :3! : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fvRr-xV8WJo</p></blockquote></div></div>
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